


Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

by schim



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Crush, Fluff, M/M, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schim/pseuds/schim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave develops an unironic crush on his best friend's dad. [HIATUS]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> !NOTES!  
> !Please read!
> 
> This fic is set in a slight AU-verse. All the trolls are Humanstuck with unaltered names (very little focus is given to them anyway). Sburb never existed, Dad (James as he will be called in this) is actually John's real father. He and his now ex-wife had the twins (John and Jade are siblings, Dave and Rose aren't) at the end of highschool, when they were 18. Dave's family moved to John's town around the time he was ready to start kindergarten.
> 
> OP didn't specify, so I am doing this WITHOUT a Daddy kink. Yes, Dave is attracted to James's fatherly qualities, but more in the sense of "BE MY BABY'S DADDY" rather than "BE MY DADDY". I tried to stress that in how Dave thinks about him and how he reacts at the end of the chapter.
> 
>  **Fic's theme song:** http://youtu.be/iNuN6k8GE1c  
>  **Original request on Homesmut:** http://homesmut.livejournal.com/10240.html?thread=17153792#t17153792  
>  \---------  
> This fic is on HIATUS status which means that it is complete in outline form and may someday be finished.

Mr. Egbert was _always_ there.

When Dave met his bucktoothed son on the first day of school, he was there.

When Dave tried to do something impressive off John's swingset and broke his arm, he was there.

When Dave got a call one stormy night, he was there.

When the caskets descended and “orphan” was add to Dave's vocabulary, he was there.

When Dave experienced his first crush three years later, he was there.

“Last one there is a rotten egg!”

“I can't believe you just said that. No wait, yes I can.” Dave pedaled a little faster, until he was at John's side.

It was autumn. The sidewalk was a golden leaf road that crackled under their tires as they raced to John's house.

Weekdays were Egbert days.

When the Strider family shrank, Dave and his brother had to leave the suburbs for the cheaper apartments in the city. The change of homes also brought with it the change of school districts. Dropping Dave off at John's in the morning and picking him up at night was the greatest gift his brother could ever give him.

Dave looked forward to weekdays the same way other kids anticipated weekends.

“I've got an unfair advantage here, Egbert.” Dave's pace was steady.

“Why's that?” John leaned into his bike as he went faster.

“You're already halfway there with the egg thing.” Dave turned off the sidewalk and with a burst of his legs, came back to cut John off.

“Ah. Hey!” John braked to avoid hitting him.

Dave coasted down to John's driveway, set his bike by the front step, and strolled up to the door. John threw his on the grass and bolted over, shoving Dave as he grabbed the doorknob with a victorious grin. It was given victory, but a victory nonetheless. John was still 12 so Dave let it slide.

When the door opened, the smell of home hit Dave like a refreshing wave. It crashed over him, and he took a deep breath, hoping the smell of the Egbert household would soak him hours after he left. It smelled _perfect_. Dave closed his eyes and walked into the living room. It was so familiar that he could navigate the whole house blind.

John threw down his bag, and by the sounds of it, darted into the kitchen.

The smell of fresh pumpkin bread beckoned and Dave followed. In the doorway he opened his eyes to see Mr. Egbert bent over the stove, armed with pink oven mitts. He pulled two loaves of bread out of the oven and set them aside to cool.

“Evening, Dave.” Mr. Egbert set the mitts down and wiped his hands on his dirty apron. It was white with a cheesy fake tie at the top. “How was school?”

“We dissected frogs today. It was super gross.” John spoke with apple chunks in his mouth. Only healthy snacks before dinner at the Egberts'.

“Just another day.” Dave shrugged his shoulders, walking over to the fridge. “Only sss---,” he caught himself. Cuss words were forbidden there, “sucky thing is we've got to go back again and again. Vicious cycle and all.”

“At least it's Friday.” Mr. Egbert smiled.

“Can we rent a movie?” John flashed the award winning smile he always did when he was about to get anything he wanted.

Dave opened the fridge as the two talked behind him. It was a huge fridge, much bigger than the one at his brother's place. The fact it wasn't full of dangerous objects doubled its size by default. There was an entire drawer stocked full of apple juice boxes. Dave grabbed one.

None of the Egberts drank apple juice.

“Dad.” John sighed. “I'm not going to get scared, trust me.”

Dave sipped his juice box and walked over to the counter to inspect the day's fruit basket yield. He picked an orange and took a seat across from John at the table.

“Mm. That's what you said about the other one.” Mr. Egbert put a few fingers to his chin, running over his light stubble.

Dave found himself staring from the side.

There was never a time when Mr. Egbert didn't smell like aftershave. Dave took a quiet breath to pull more of the smell in. The air around was alive with the scents of Mr. Egbert and they hung heavy and strong over the smell of baked goods. Dave's stomach did a weird flip and he focused on peeling his orange.

“Dave 's here.” John glanced between him and his father.

Dave got the message.

“Yeah. I'm here.” Dave turned his head to see Mr. Egbert place his pipe between his firm lips. Dave's eyes followed the curve of them, how they looked soft against the roughness of his face. “I'll hold his hand so he doesn't wet himself. Even cover his eyes during the scary parts.”

John responded with a slight narrowing of his eyes and a jut of his lips before flashing his father a convincing grin.

“How much homework do you boys have?”

“Not a whole lot.” John's voice was small.

“After homework.” Mr. Egbert moved back over the business side of the kitchen. Dave turned to watch him go, still whittling away at his orange.

Every step Mr. Egbert took was confident, strong, never faltering. The man was like a freight train, powerful, unstoppable, handsome, and always on time. Dave blinked at his own thought. Trains weren't handsome. Bad simile.

 **Wait**.

Dave's orange peel fell on the floor. He didn't notice until he was trying to peel the fruit itself and his fingers were sticky.

“You okay Dave?” John leaned across the table to inspect the scene.

“Yeah, man. Just got in the zone. You know how it is.” Dave sucked the juice off his fingers and looked back over at Mr. Egbert.

He wondered what the man tasted like.

Hold up.

 _What_.

“Fuck.” Dave hissed as orange juice seeped into fresh bitemarks on his thumb.

He snapped his head over at Mr. Egbert so fast his sunglasses nearly flew off. Mr. Egbert didn't seem to notice and Dave grunted, wringing his tshirt around his throbbing thumb.

“You okay, Dave?” John's stomach was on the table as he tried to see the other boy's hand. “You don't look so good.”

“What?” His face felt a little warm. Nothing some intense poker facing couldn't fix. “I'm fine, Egbert, jeez. Don't flip and call 911 or anything. I'm fine.”

“That must be a reeeally good orange.” John laughed and Dave rolled his eyes.

Homework followed. It was like some kind of mental cocktease. A reminder that even in the comfort of home, school still had its claws in deep. It was even worse at John's where Dave was surrounded by good smells, good food, good company, but algebra demanded his full attention. Homework was absolute torture.

The guard didn't look so bad, though.

Dave found his eyes wandering over to Mr. Egbert as he prepared dinner. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his muscular arms. He looked strong, yet worked with a delicate touch.

With a low cough, Dave looked back at John, whose pen was stuck in his mouth the same way his father had lipped his pipe. Moments like that, Dave was thankful for his shades. He stared as John ran the pen over his parted lips, bumping his teeth before closing his mouth around it. Dave imagined Mr. Egbert instead of John.

Heat hit him like a punch in the face.

He coughed again.

John glanced over.

Dave pretended not a damn thing happened and continued battling algebra.

Dinner was the best thing he ever tasted, again, as always. Chicken pot pie, homemade. As much noise as John made about his father's baked goods, even he shut up and called for seconds. There were always seconds, and thirds, and leftovers. Their fridge was huge, after all.

Mr. Egbert was so polite, so proper at the table, even though he was in the company of kids. It made Dave feel like he was an equal, like every meal he was graduating from the Thanksgiving kid's table. He was 13, time to sit with the men.

A burp escaped John and he giggled.

John didn't count.

After the movie was obtained, popcorn popped, the boys settled on the couch. The movie was terrible. John's movie choices were never not terrible. The only reason Dave ever let him pick was to avoid the whining. Mr. Egbert read in the kitchen.

The clock on the cable box flashed 8:00. Mr. Egbert appeared out of the kitchen and pulled his hat off. His thick hair fluffed out. It was short, but still had so much volume. Dave assumed he wore hats to avoid the mess that was John's hair. It must have run in the family.

Like some kind of fatherly clockwork, Mr. Egbert always took his hat off at eight o'clock, unless he was out of the house. Dave liked to think he was giving the hat a rest after a long day of holding back the beast that was Egbert hair. Battle well fought, soldier.

Dave bit his lip to keep from thinking about how Mr. Egbert's hair would feel between his fingers. The sheen made it look soft.

By bedtime, Dave was exhausted. Bro gave him the okay on sleeping over, not that he ever said no. Dave settled under his pony patterned blanket. John's bed was equipped with a roll out years earlier, and Dave was glad for it, though in the back of his mind he knew why.

He knew why he kept spare clothes at John's house. He knew why he stayed for dinner every weeknight for the past three years. He knew why the fridge was kept stocked with his favorite foods. He knew why they gave him free roam of the house like he lived there too.

Mr. Egbert felt sorry for him.

 _Everyone_ felt sorry for him.

Where ever he went, everyone who knew toed around the subject like Dave was thin ice waiting to crack. When people told others why they should be cautious, they'd look at him with sad eyes, a frown, and an obligatory “oh”. Mr. Egbert was the only person who never directly talked about it. He was just there, like he always was, willing to listen to the things Dave never wanted to say.

“Dave?” John leaned over the side of the bed.

“What, Egbert.”

“Are you okay? You're moving around a lot.”

Dave blinked in the darkness. He hadn't realized he was tossing and turning like a fish out of water. No matter how he shifted, he didn't feel comfortable.

 _Life_ didn't feel comfortable.

“Do you miss them?” John's voice was barely above a mumble.

He was toeing the ice.

Dave sighed through his nose.

“What kind of question is that?” What he meant was that John knew the answer full damn well and should shut up and go to sleep.

“Well.” John wiggled back so he was peeking over the bed. “I noticed you acting kinda funny tonight.” Dave tensed. “Around dad.”

Dave's breathing stopped.

“Yeah?” He exhaled slow and steady, running his fingers through his hair to emphasize cool. “I didn't notice anything funny. But you're the funny guy here. You're all about funny. You know funny. You live and breathe the shit. Cut you open and you'd bleed peanut can snakes and rubber chickens.”

Dave could have kept going for hours, but they both knew his game. It was pointless, a waste of breath and time.

“Is it because of your dad?”

Dave's teeth ground against each other.

“Because you miss him and maybe.” John wiggled farther away, out of line of the glare that pierced through the darkness. “Maybe you see my dad as a replacement or something?”

Dave sat up.

John pulled his covers up to his chin and frowned.

“Your dad.” Dave's voice was low, cold, and very serious. “Or _any_ man, will _never_ replace my dad. Got it?”

“Yeah. I got it.” John smiled to combat the tension. Dave let him and he fell back twice as exhausted as before.

Dave wasn't sure when sleep welcomed him into its embrace. His mind was going at lightspeed and picking up power. He replayed the night's events and the events of years past over and over. Mr. Egbert's face kept appearing, like sunshine through storm clouds. Sunshine that gave storm clouds what for then passed around cupcakes and hugs.

The tune of his heart picked up its pace when he thought of Mr. Egbert's hands, big, strong, gentle, gliding through his blond hair as the man whispered, _Everything's okay. I'm here_.

Realization hit him like a cheap shot to the groin.

Dave coughed and rolled over with his back to the snoring John and his eyes wide and bloodshot towards the wall. His heart pounded in his throat, threatening to strangle him. He thought of Mr. Egbert again, his hands. Dave closed his eyes and swallowed, picturing those hands petting down his sides, humming one of his ridiculous melodies soft and low. His tense muscles went lax, but his heartbeat stayed strong.

 _God damn it._

He had a crush.

On his best friend's dad.

 _God FUCKING damn it._


	2. Chapter 2

The years passed and Mr. Egbert didn't change. Everything else did. Seasons changed, schools changed, and even Dave changed. He started to really commit to the whole “growing up” thing. It was the cool thing to do.

Through it all, Mr. Egbert remained the same, like an old song that Dave kept in his heart. It was the only beat that stayed constant and steady.

Dave turned fourteen.

He kissed a girl for the first time and found it less than spectacular. Far less. He crossed girls off his “to do” list the night he finished doing sound work for a school play. He kissed an actor, a senior with a stubbly face. Dave liked the way he felt against his lips. Especially when he closed his eyes and pretended he was someone else. Someone older.

Highschool offered Dave the cream of the crop, but his eyes fell elsewhere. Kids, all of them. Kids trying to play adult games and pretend like they had adult problems. Dave didn't want a cheap imitation. He wanted the real thing.

A _real_ man.

And he was okay with that. It was uncool to fidget and squirm in denial. Dave didn't play like that. John, however, reigned as the king of uncool for years until dethroned by an experimental kiss one rainy Friday night.

John was a curious boy. A curious boy who looked a lot like his father if his glasses were removed and the viewer squinted really, really hard. Their lips met for the first and last time. As they wiped away the taste of each other, they both came to the conclusion that their mouths were far better suited for other people. Dave fell asleep disappointed.

They were the wrong Egbert's lips.

Dave turned fifteen.

His body started to mimic that of his brother's, sleek, lean, powerful. He still had a long way to go, but more often the smaller Strider came out on top. John was still an awkward gangly mess, but he gained a few inches in height. Dave was less than pleased by the possibility that the Egderp might eventually tower over him.

He started to look more and more like his father. The only saving grace was John's glasses, which dominated his face. All the better to _not_ look like the man he would eventually become.

Summer arrived.

One of John's new friends, who he spent increasingly annoying amounts of time with, threw a birthday pool party. It was low on Dave's list of things he ever wanted to do, but both Egberts attended. One begged him and the other told him sunshine and fresh air was good for him. Dave didn't swim, even when his body gained a sheen of sweat. Swimming wasn't cool.

Mr. Egbert proved him wrong with a cannonball.

When he surfaced, his hair slicked back, thoroughly tamed by the water. Dave forgot how to blink and swallow and breathe as he watched Mr. Egbert pull himself out of the pool. Droplets turned to serpentine streams down his bare chest, tracing his muscles and disappearing into his swim trunks, which clung tight to his body. How he could hide that body behind business attire and cakebaking was one of the world's greatest mysteries.

Dave excused himself to the bathroom to handle the growing situation in his swimtrunks. For a full hour after, he lay on the floor sweaty and panting.

When school started back up again, Dave picked up a smoking habit and John picked up a boyfriend.

Dave turned sixteen.

Weekdays were the same except for the new addition. Dave ignored him best he could, but John's “secret” boyfriend was far too loud and opinionated to shut off completely. So Dave resorted to the next best thing, annoying the piss out of the him. Not every day was boyfriend day, but best bro days became fewer and farther between.

At least there was Mr. Egbert.

Hanging out with someone's dad hovered somewhere near the pinnacle of uncool, but Dave didn't care. It wasn't like anyone would find out. John was too worried about his own problem of a foot still firmly planted in the closet. There were already a couple of kids who were out at school. No one cared.

But it made Dave wonder if it was another Egbert family trait. The possibility of it helped him finish himself off at night.

“Wow. It's really coming down out there.” John pulled away from the living room window as he worked off his wet shirt. His glasses fell and he laughed.

Dave grunted to himself as he worked off his soaked pants. Damn skinny jeans. “Thanks for the heads up. I didn't realize when we were out in it. Can always count on my man, Egbert.”

The upstairs shower turned on and the two looked over.

“You're going to share that, aren't you?”

John grinned. “Three showers would be kind of a waste of water.”

“And sloppy meatmissile time.”

“Dave!” John giggled and turned a few shades redder.

Dave dumped all but his boxers in the wet pile on the floor. “I don't want to see any evidence when you're done. I expect that shower completely and 100% free of fallen sausage soldiers. I can't take the carnage, bro. Seeing all those good men, not properly laid to rest. I'll be humming Taps the whole way through.”

“You could use my dad's shower.”

That caught Dave's attention with a perk of his brow. “Is he cool with that?”

“Yeah. He won't be home for a while, and he'd totally understand. He wouldn't want anyone to catch a cold from sitting around all wet.”

Dave's stomach was practically breakdancing, but his face said otherwise. “Cool.”

Walking into Mr. Egbert's room was like walking into a wonderland. A manly wonderland. Dave closed his eyes and took a breath. Everything was _him_. He was completely surrounded by everything Mr. Egbert. His bedroom was a refreshing change from the rest of the house's tackiness. It was clean, crisp, simple, practical, and left Dave feeling very--- safe.

A full shudder ran through Dave's body and he couldn't tell if it was from the cold or the room and its bits and pieces of Mr. Egbert. He licked his lips as his unsteady legs brought him to the bathroom door. It was just as organized as the bedroom behind him. Dave wondered if there was some sort of businessman Feng Shui, if so, Mr. Egbert was the master of it.

He was a perfect sense of balance and order in an otherwise chaotic world.

Taking off his boxers in Mr. Egbert's bathroom felt both odd and thrilling.

The bathroom steamed when Dave turned on the water. The shower was much nicer, much bigger than the one in the hall. It had stone tile, a place to sit, and a rope showerhead. Dave turned the shower to a misty setting. He wanted to be enveloped in heat.

He set his shades down next to a contacts case and a pair of glasses.

The heat of the water felt amazing against his cold skin. Dave strummed out a tune on a bottle of shampoo. Using Mr. Egbert's shower also meant he'd leave smelling like him. He smiled and squeezed a generous helping into his hand. As he closed his eyes and lathered up his hair, he imagined Mr. Egbert's hands there instead, working over his scalp with a gentle touch. He shivered despite the heat.

One hand slide down his chest and Dave bit his lip. Mr. Egbert's hands were well used, they'd probably feel rough against his still soft skin. His hand fell lower and Dave let out a breath, glad that John and his crabby boyfriend were on the other side of the house. No amount of bullshit could explain the little noises that hung on his trembling breath.

His eyes snapped open when his hand reached his pubes. No. It was Mr. Egbert's shower. He frowned and looked down, his dick was already half hard and begging for him to continue. Not even the coolest of coolkids could live down jacking off in the shower of his best friend's dad. That level of irony was too much for even him.

So with a few apologetic pats to his dick, Dave finished cleaning himself off.

The air of Mr. Egbert's bedroom was cool against Dave's hot skin. A towel wrapped around his waist was his only savior from complete nudity. He breathed deep as he walked barefoot towards the bed. It felt like a dream, all warm and cozy in Mr. Egbert's private space where none of life's problems dared to touch. Dave trailed his finger along the bed. The blanket was soft and sturdy against his touch, like an old t-shirt.

He flopped face first into the pillow, nearly losing his towel as his body followed.

Every deity that ever existed and ever would exist was praised with a breathy sigh and a groan for Mr.Egbert being gone and for the golden opportunity to lay half naked in his bed. Fate was serving up generous helpings of _fuck yes_. Dave closed his eyes as he moved his arms up to hug the pillow. His toes stretched out like a lazy cat and if he could, he would have purred like one too.

There was no point in doing anything else for the rest of his life. Perfect happiness was achieved. All other life ambitions could pack up and leave. The only thing that could make the moment better was if Mr. Egbert was there too. Dave imagined him cuddled up behind him, fingers petting through his wet hair then sliding down to tease at the edge of his towel. He shivered at the thought.

“Had a long day?”

Dave's eyes snapped open behind the darkness of his shades.

Mr. Egbert stood through a half open doorway, his hand still on the knob. He smiled as if he was walking into Dave's room rather than his own.

Dave swallowed a nervous string of “uhs” and “ums”.

“You wouldn't believe the length of this day. I'd have to flip it over to metric to properly measure it for you. Might even have to break out the light years. Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Things get pretty messy by that point. Have to factor in wormholes and what not.” Dave took a breath, it took everything he had to stay cool.

The fact his dick was at half mast underneath him didn't help one bit.

“John told me you kids got caught in the rain.” Mr. Egbert stayed where he was. If Dave wasn't so busy quietly flipping all his shits, he would have found it odd that a grown man was peeking into his own bedroom, as if he was intruding. “Do you think you might have caught something?”

Dave knew what he meant. _Why the fuck are you in my bed, Strider_. He coughed, not to pretend he was sick, but to let his slight shift go unnoticed. The cough just conveniently doubled as a lead to an alibi. If only his dick wasn't demanding all brain functions, then Dave could have stood up, slicked his hair back for a smooth exit, but no.

There was a battle raging inside Dave, the evidence of such kept safely behind a set of aviators and relaxed lips. His mind was all over the place in a panicked mess, like a deer caught in a circle of headlights. _You're in his bed. His fucking bed. Half naked. Oh god. What if he wants you to get up. Oh god. Not even ten fucking towels are going to hide the fucking rocket that's ready to launch. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god._

“I might have.”

Dave couldn't manage the weakest of sarcasm. It was an excuse, his only excuse, and fuck no he wasn't going to let it slip out of his hands. It was a matter of life and reputation-death. Poor Mr. Egbert probably wouldn't be able to look him in the eye again if he saw the circus of fun that was setting up the big top pole.

Again Dave praised every deity, this time for the fact he was on his stomach in the most troubling of times.

“I'll put on some tea for you, then.” Mr. Egbert flashed a smile.

 _That_ smile. The smile that made Dave feel a confusing flurry of weird emotions he still didn't understand. Emotions that hit him straight in the heart, then two for flinching. He couldn't dodge it, he couldn't flashstep around him. It was a heartseeking missile.

His dick refused to be ignored. _Those lips sure would look good wrapped aroun---._

Dave winced. “Yea. I'd like that.”

He winced again at his winning word choice. Time to thank the deities that mindreading a wasn't real thing. Dave tried to shove his thoughts to other more innocent things. Just in case.

Mr. Egbert's head tilt ever so slightly in concern, but he nodded and smiled.

“Take your time coming down. It's a nice bed; a therapeutic.” He chuckled low and soft. “I don't blame you for wanting to test it out.”

The door clicked closed and Dave exhaled a “FUCK” into the pillow. When he sat up, Dave Jr. bounced beneath his towel, ready for action. Dave grunted and glanced over at the bathroom, weighing his options.

Mr. Egbert did say he could take his time.

Bro came by early that night. It wasn't unexpected, Dave asked him to. He was sure John appreciated the alone time. The two were becoming attached at the hip and attached at the---. Dave sucked harder on his cigarette and held the burn in until he exhaled with a hard cough.

Smoking on the rooftop in the middle of the city, he should have felt like a hardboiled hardass.

But he felt like just an ass instead.

When Dave came back inside, Bro was sitting at the coffee table. A camera with half of its parts spread in neat, organized piles was set before him. Without looking up, he gave a sharp nod of his head. It was like an ingrained reflex. Dave didn't return the gesture.

He didn't do anything but stand with his back to the door.

“Bro?” Dave's tone wasn't much different from a kid peeking into his parents' room after a nightmare.

Bro turned his head. Despite the sunglasses, Dave knew his brother's hidden expression. It was the same look a mother grizzly gave before she charged the poor fool unlucky enough to stumble upon her cub.

“Yea?” Even Bro's tone said, _best be no man messin' with my baby cub._

Dave walked over the couch and Bro shoved a few smuppets out of the way. That was when Dave knew shit was really serious. He sat down and tried to keep his back straight, like a man. Never mind the fact he hadn't felt so much like a child in years.

“I've got a problem. A big one.”

Bro set the shell of his camera down. “Something with Egbert?”

Dave swallowed. “Well, yea.”

“Is it because of his new ride?”

Dave's posture slackened. “Wrong Egbert, dude.”

Bro didn't miss a beat. He never missed. And he didn't plan on starting anytime soon. Or ever.

“So _he_ got a new ride, then?”

“No.” Dave's face grew warm and something that seemed too close to jealousy gnawed at his stomach. “It's about us. About the shit he does to me.”

Bro's lips tightened and mama bear eyes were back.

“Whoa. No. No.” Dave lifted his hands as if he could physically suppress his brother's rage. “Not like that, man. Chill. I mean the shit he does to my head.”

“Like?”

Dave rubbed his neck. “He makes me feel like a freak. ”

“Can't be that bad.” Bro shrugged.

“I jacked it in his bathroom today.” Dave let an awkward laugh tumble out. “His personal bathroom. The _master_ bathroom.”

Bro's face was as blank as always. “So when's this going to stop being tootin' your own horn time and starts getting to the real problem, lil man?”

“Bro.” Dave dragged his words out to make sure they sounded extra serious. “I cranked it to somebody's dad.”

“Yea.”

“My best friend's dad.”

“Mhm.”

“You don't see a problem here?”

Bro sighed and leaned back, his shoulders popping as he rolled them. “Okay, so let me make sure I've got all the facts here. So he hasn't touched you.”

“No.”

“Or done anything weird to you.”

“No.”

“And you haven't done anything weird to him or his stuff while you were working it. Like unloading in his shoes or toothpaste or something.”

“God NO.” Dave put his hands to his face with a smack and a grunt. “He's a dad, Bro. And before you say what's the problem, _he's a motherfucking dad_. Literally. He fucked John's mom. From his dick sprang the show tune and dance that is John Fucking Egbert. And you know what, Bro?” Dave clenched his teeth as he spoke through them. “I _want_ that dick.”

Bro crackeded his neck to the side.

“Doesn't that strike you as a little fucking odd? Not even a little?” Dave sighed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. Talking to someone who made a living off puppet porn was the wrong person to ask.

“Okay, so.” Bro reached for his camera. “Is this about you worrying about some sort of daddy issues gone wrong?”

Dave went quiet. “Yeah.”

Bro pulled back, leaving the camera where it was on the coffee table.

“I really miss him sometimes. I miss _them_.” Dave made a weak attempt to clear his throat when his voice trembled. “And then there's Egbert. _Mr_. Egbert. He's older and spawned my god damn best friend.”

“It's different, Bro.” The edges of Dave's lips worked between motions that resembled frowns and smiles. “He's different. I get this feeling that he really cares for me, a lot. I think he really tries to be something important to me. I know he'd never want to replace--- them. But. I really feel like he loves me. And.”

Dave pushed his palms to his eyes and his glasses slipped into his lap. “And then I had to go and fuck it up by falling in love with him, Bro. That's the fucked up part. It's me.”

The couch squeaked as Bro shifted and scooted over. His arm came down to rest on his little brother's shoulders. Dave leaned against him like a fallen sapling, too weak to stand on its own. Not a word was spoken. Dave let out a shuddering sigh and Bro patted his upper arm. After some unmarked time ticked past, Dave lowered his hands to his lap.

“Dave.” Bro's voice was deep, yet soft. It reminded Dave of someone that it hurt to remember. “I'm going to tell you something and I only want to say it once, so listen up.”

Dave nodded and Bro continued. “There's not a damn thing wrong with you loving anyone. I don't care who it is. Fuck, I don't really care _what_ it is, you know what I do. So long as it's consent all around, who really gives a fuck? You can't worry about that shit, lil man.”

“Life handed you a pretty shit hand. Trust me, I know. We shared some real mean cards. But one bad hand ain't everything. Game's not over yet.” Bro sighed and leaned back, letting his legs stretch farther under the coffee table. “What I'm saying is. I know, you know, and I'm sure as shit Egbert's old man knows, you're not spitting on dad's grave for him.”

“And the whole falling in love with him thing?” Bro slipped into a minor drawl. “Shit, lil man. Dad was almost eight years older than mom. She really had a thing for the older gents. It probably runs in the family, who knows. Think of old man Egbert like a classic car. That shit makes the panties pop clear across the street.”

“Bro.” Dave warned.

Bro ruffled his hair and laughed. “So you've got dicklust for DILFs, no big fucking deal. News flash, lil man, a lot of people fuck somebody's dad. People breeding left and fucking right, it's hard not to. You've just got a head start on the game. The shit I would've done to live a MILF fantasy at your age.”

“Okay, Bro. _Thanks_.” Dave shoved him away only to be caught in a chokehold. “You fuck. Let me go, Bro. Seriously. Fuck off.”

“Nah.” Bro let him have a vicious noogie. “That's for being such a little dork.” He laughed when Dave started throwing punches. “Just fucking wait until you're at least 18 to smang it, okay? Must be at least this legal to ride the Egbert.”

“Fuck you.” Dave hissed when he broke free.

Bro laughed again.

In Dave's bedroom, his computer was on. A tired machine that kept on trucking through the demands of its owner. In the far left corner of the screen was a simple application, a little window with a number on it: 547. The digital clocks in the apartment clicked over to midnight and the number changed to 546.


	3. Chapter 3

Music was the only thing that made sense.

It was what it was. It could be molded and sculpted, but as much control as its crafter tried to hold over it, it still slipped through, never staying, always flowing. Music reached out and went where its crafter could not. It touched the hearts its crafter could not.

And like a heartbeat, it beat _thump bunp bunp_ with the rhythm of life.

Music flowed from Dave's fingers like he bled it. It wanted him to go places. To the top and never down again. Dave had other plans. Plans that involved apathy and a severe deficiency in motivation. He played, he did occasional work for school and the rare college student who wanted cheap yet original pieces for a film.

He was going places. Those places just happened to begin with “no” and ended with “where”.

Dave turned seventeen.

“God fucking damn it. I don't know how you fucking magic wizards do it, but, FUCK. I can't get this shit.”

“Language, Vantas.” Dave glared despite the chill in his voice.

“Fuck off. He can't fucking hear me.” Karkat snapped and nearly tore his tie, which he fumbled with like a 5 month old trying to tie his shoes. “URGH.”

“Are you sure you're okay with this, Dave?” John lifted his hands to Karkat's tie, fixing it without even looking. The rage in Karkat went still under his touch. “Prom's a pretty big deal.”

Dave put his hands in his pockets. His own tie was loose against a button up shirt. He also sported nice black slacks and shoes so shiny they could blind a man. He didn't have a suit; he wasn't a part of the dance.

At least not the way the rest of his peers were.

“I'm more than okay with it, Egbert.” Dave ran his hand through his hair. “Gotta keep that untouchable Strider reputation up. I'll be wetting more panties working the music. And they're paying me. Pretty sweet deal compared to your awkward slow dance and sweaty handholding.”

Karkat huffed louder than necessary. He _existed_ louder than necessary. John grinned at Dave and they fistbumped. There was a time when it was a daily occurrence. Ever since kittenkaboodle showed up it became a once a month thing, if Dave was lucky.

Dave glared with unseen eyes. His first thought was _homewrecker_ , then he remembered it wasn't actually his home. Or his family.

It knocked Dave into a stupor.

He didn't recover until they were in the car and Dave was given the exclusive rights to the music. It came with the job of being “navigator”, which was Mr. Egbert's endearing and highly dorky term for whoever rode passenger. The two nerdlings sat in the back, hands laced like some sort of extra homosexual seatbelt. Dave rolled his eyes and changed the station.

Smooth jazz, Mr. Egbert's favorite.

The music seemed to have an effect on Mr. Egbert. Dave watched him from the corner of his eyes. It was a small reaction, only a tap of his thumb against the steering wheel. As a father, as a man of responsibility, safety was Mr. Egbert's top priority in the car. Eyes always on the road, full stop at stop signs, always look before going, regularly check all mirrors, never speed. It was a world apart from Bro's driving. There was a sense of ease when Mr. Egbert drove, like the calm after a long storm.

They were early.

The sun was still out and the night's events were hours away. John and Karkat left to help their friends finish last minute prep while Mr. Egbert helped Dave move and set up his equipment. Dave knew Mr. Egbert was strong, but he was no less impressed when he carried far more equipment than he should have. A small part of Dave wanted Mr. Egbert to handle the heavier stuff so he wouldn't lose his cool straining in front of him. A much larger part of him liked seeing the way Mr. Egbert's shirt outlined his muscles.

Time ticked by and the sun followed into darkness. Mr. Egbert took his chaperoning duties very seriously, just like everything else. There wasn't even the satisfaction of watching him between songs. Too much potential hanky panky was lurking about and Mr. Egbert was there like a fatherly cockblock in for the boner kill.

Dave was bored out of his mind.

Every single song was pre-approved by the school. That meant that they were popular songs that were just that, popular, and a shit taste in music was just as popular as the songs themselves. Approximately all of the playlist sucked, except for a few songs Dave sneaked in. Songs that for their entirety, Dave stared at Mr. Egbert.

Hours dragged by. It wasn't a DJing job, it was a babysitting job. Instead of screaming brats, or in the case of prom, sexually adventurous brats, he had equipment. At least that never ran the risk of pregnancy on prom night.

Kids left, kids lingered, the music died down.

It was late by the time Dave packed up the last of his equipment and Mr. Egbert carted it off to his car. John and Karkat left with friends. The urge to smoke clawed at Dave, but he ignored it as he plopped down into Mr. Egbert's car. Hours of doing absolutely nothing were more tiring than seemed possible.

Mr. Egbert settled in and smiled over at Dave, his eyes tired, but polite. “Hungry?”

“Wasting away.”

They ended up at a 24 hour diner: small, comfortable. It was old, but not gross or unclean. More like how old clothes were softer and old memories were warmer. When the waitresses came to take their drink order, Mr. Egbert insisted Dave go first. He ordered a cup of coffee and Mr. Egbert followed suit.

“Coffee?” Mr. Egbert raised a brow and his smile ruined all potential seriousness.

“Yeah.” Dave started to stack the little creamer packets. “I like coffee.”

“This late?” Mr. Egbert rubbed his neck. He looked exhausted, but his posture didn't falter.

“It's cool. No school tomorrow.” Dave's attention fell on the hat that still sat atop Mr. Egbert's head. It was well past eight o'clock. “Isn't it getting on the late side of things for you, though? You were really running 'em down tonight. I'd say you single-handedly kept the baby population to a bare minimum and saved some kids from some really awkward dinner discussions.”

Mr. Egbert laughed, head bent down to try to hold most of it in. “Kids these days.” He paused to acknowledge and thank the waitress when she brought their coffees before looking back at Dave. “No different from any other days.”

The waitress took their orders. Mr. Egbert ordered a small meal of two eggs and dry toast. It was a healthy choice compared to the monstrosity of a breakfast platter that Dave ordered. It was the kind of meal that should have come with a warning label. May induce heart attacks upon consumption, proceed with caution.

With their orders placed and the waitress gone, Dave watched Mr. Egbert prepare his coffee. One and a half sugar packets. The unused half was folded and set above his fork. He drank it black. Dave mulled over his options of taking the more manly route with his, but flavor won over possible favor and his tower of creamers was left significantly shorter.

“What was it like when you were a kid?” Dave tried to grace the edges of the question to make it seem it was less about Mr. Egbert himself.

Mr. Egbert was a hard man to fool.

“I at least had the modesty to keep my hands to myself,” he took a sip, “in public.”

“Oh?” Dave almost punched himself in the face to force his eyebrows back down. He could feel them try to rise over his glasses.

Mr. Egbert let out a small chuckle into the rim of his mug. “Is it hard to believe I was adventurous once?”

Pursed lips was the only thing Dave could do to hold back an expression that would make him feel guilty. It always seemed to him that Mr. Egbert had rolled straight out of a 1950s sitcom, perfect and squeaky clean. Imagining him in otherwise compromising positions was not only difficult, but brought hot color to Dave's face.

“I understand.” Mr. Egbert set down his mug and smiled a smile that spoke more than any words ever could.

“Does it,” Dave stumbled over his words and they felt weird in his mouth, “bother you for me to ask about stuff like that?”

He retreated to his coffee mug, as if it could wash away the aftertaste of his question. Talking to Mr. Egbert was different than talking to anyone else. He could feel mental defenses lower and it left him feeling something he hadn't often felt.

 _Awkward_.

Mr. Egbert smiled where he should have laughed. “Not at all. You can ask me anything, Dave.”

Dave returned the smile, however much smaller it may have been. Something in way Mr. Egbert said his name felt good, like warm sunshine in winter.

“Can I,” Dave sipped his coffee for what felt like emotional backup, “call you by your first name?”

“Certainly.”

The following silence made Mr. Egbert huff a small laugh and smile a wide smile, a charming smile full of teeth that lacked the awkwardness his son's carried.

“It's James.”

“James.” Dave had to bite down on the edge of his mug to keep delighted sounds from destroying his reputation.

Plates of food were a welcome momentary distraction. After the waitress came and went, Dave let his attention fall to the plan of attack on his feast of a meal. That attention was quick to alter its course when Mr. Egbert, James, started to prepare his food.

The seemingly forgotten sugar packet was sprinkled on his eggs before he cut them. The cuts were in perfect lines, first one way, then another. His toast, which came in half slices, was cut into smaller triangles, which James then ate like some sort of toast chip dip.

Dave didn't notice he was staring until James looked up with polite, questioning eyes. The look and Dave's responding jerk was enough to encourage him to put all focus on his meal.

“Did you have fun tonight?” James finished his meal long before Dave, who had slowed down to occasional nibbles.

“I'm gonna be honest here, James. My brain cells were killing themselves off for fun. They couldn't take it.”

“Wouldn't it have been more fun if you went with someone?”

Dave tested the waters of just how far James's _anything_ went. “With you cockblocking my every sweet move?”

“I can't stop what you do outside of school.” James sipped his coffee so casually that Dave started to wonder if the man had a poker face all his own.

“Is that how things went down for you?” Testing the waters became a backward triple flip cannonball.

James laughed with no suppression, polite or otherwise. When he spoke, there was still laughter there. “I guess you could say it was practice for what eventually became the twins.”

“Aw yee, James.” Dave nodded in approval, but something ate at his stomach and worked its way up to his heart.

“I know you'd probably have more fun spending tonight with friends, but I'm glad you're here. It's always nice spending time with you, Dave. Even if I'm just a boring old man.”

Dave's breath tangled with his heartbeat and everything stopped.

 _You have no idea, James. No idea._

A cough brought Dave back, though a few degrees warmer and a few shades redder.

“Are you serious? Come on now. Don't be playing me, James. You trying to fish here? I know fishing is some kind of super intense thing once you hit a certain age, but you're not that old. Don't be playing me, man.”

James worked on his second cup of coffee. “Spending time with their best friend's dad is not most peoples' idea of fun.”

“I'm not most people.” Dave's voice went quiet, as if it was difficult for himself to hear his own words. “And neither are you.”

“You're right.” James smiled and his voice was smooth and gentle like a goodnight kiss. Something in the way he said it, in the words, in the fact it was _him_ made it mean more than Dave ever thought it could.

Dave sighed and tried to mask it. Hours of dealing with bullshit was worth the short amount of time they had spent in the diner. James made him feel good, like an equal. He made him feel good and his heart ached because of it.

Seventeen was a cocktease of a number.

But seventeen wasn't the problem. Seconds ticked by, each taking him a step closer to an age of legal liberation. So much time was spent on waiting to grow up that rarely did he even consider what he would do once he had the chance. Men like James were too good. Too good for the world and too good for directionless punks like Dave.

It still felt good.

It still felt good to bask in the warm glow of James's presence, even if it was all look and don't touch.

The ride back home was bittersweet. At some point, the night turned cold. A full stomach didn't help and Dave found himself drifting in and out of sleep. The car's heater wasn't enough and control over his tiny shivers was lost to Dave.

The feel of a coat, thick and smelling of rich familiarity, almost made Dave stir from the edge of slumber. Instead, he feigned sleep and curled into it until what was once out of reach became something real. Dave wished he could sleep the year away in the warm embrace of James's coat and dream of its much better, much warmer replacement.

Time had other plans.

It carried on, one beat at a time. A song with the volume set low played on the radio. It was an upbeat little number, one of James's favorites. As he drove, his thumbs tapped along the steering wheel in perfect rhythm.


End file.
